


Nnoitra Gilga: Has A Really Weird Fraccion

by Tozette



Category: Bleach
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Vile Smut, consensual sex though, or at least character-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 02:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8648632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tozette/pseuds/Tozette
Summary: Nobody finds Nnoitra attractive, for various reasons, not least of which is because he’s kind of a creep. Nobody.The nearest they’ve come to anybody admitting anything even close is one low-level arrancar mumbling, ‘I don’t know, maybe if you gagged him’. Nnoitra doesn’t remember the girl’s name but it doesn’t matter much. He spent an enjoyable day tearing the remnant of that little shit’s mask off piece by piece and watching it dissolve into reishi. Gag on that, bitch....Tesla, though.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: the sex involves a little blood, a little choking, at least one direct death threat and, oddly, explicit consent. Nnoitra is predictably quite preoccupied with violence.

It takes Nnoitra ages to figure out that Tesla is actually kind of infatuated. 

He turns out to be basically the only person who hasn’t noticed. To be fair, it’s not the sort of thing he has to guess often. People who look at him with that kind of intensity are usually doing it because they hate him, not because they admire him and want him to fuck them into the dirt. Nnoitra encourages the hate -- he likes seeing that look on people. 

It’s not really the same on Tesla, and hate could never quite explain Tesla anyway, obviously. Tesla follows him around and obeys orders and does his level best to actually anticipate orders before they’re given, with occasionally astonishing accuracy.

But then -- Tesla is _weird_. Especially for a hollow. See, adjuchas have to have strong personalities, because they’re the ones that dominate inside the gillian from which they evolve. Tesla is beyond strange by that standard. His temperament is steady but flexible. He has no ego to speak of. He addresses everyone in polite form about eighty per cent of the time. And all he wants is to follow Nnoitra around and... uh, stare at him a lot.

And _this_ is the personality that clawed its way out of a gillian and made an adjuchas? Yeah. Tesla is weird. So you’ll forgive Nnoitra for not fucking getting it for a while, okay.

It’s not that Nnoitra thinks Tesla hates him and has a strange way of showing it -- his stupid fraccion runs after him in a fussy clamour of very polite distress every time he thinks he might have so much as a fucking paper cut. So, no, he obviously doesn’t hate him, but it’s just that whatever is going on in that fluffy blond head is probably very weird and Nnoitra just... doesn’t go there. Why should he think about it? Tesla’s weird, he thinks weird, he behaves weird. Whatever. As long as he does what he’s told, Nnoitra doesn’t really care.

(Although he is watching, always, very intently, just so he knows when Nnoitra might have experienced some kind of minor inconvenience -- so he can show up out of nowhere and address it with extreme prejudice. Actually, if Tesla wasn’t so obviously willing, Nnoitra would think somebody ordered him to follow him around just to stop Nnoitra from murdering more Numeros.)

The thing is.

 _Nobody_ finds Nnoitra attractive, for various reasons, not least of which is because he’s kind of a creep. Nobody.

The nearest they’ve come to anybody admitting anything even close is one low-level arrancar mumbling, ‘I don’t know, maybe if you gagged him’. Nnoitra doesn’t remember the girl’s name but it doesn’t matter much. He spent an enjoyable day tearing the remnant of that little shit’s mask off piece by piece and watching it dissolve into reishi. Gag on _that,_ bitch.

People are always at least a little attracted to power and competence, but there are powerful people aplenty here in Las Noches -- and every last one of them is a more sensible infatuation. Nnoitra is vicious. He’s contemptuous. He’s spiteful and violent even for a hollow. Cruelty for cruelty’s sake, that’s Nnoitra. Not even a hollow should want his kind of brutality for themselves, and for the most part, they don’t.

Tesla, though.

When Nnoitra figures it out, he sighs a huge deep sigh. He spins his weapon around in loops and loops while he paces back and forth. He barely registers that the buildings are looking worse for wear after a few turns.

He _knows_ he shouldn’t fuck Tesla and kill him, because as fun as that whole series of events sounds (and he is _unreasonably shivery all over_ just thinking about it, holy shit, he _wants_ that), he needs his fraccion. Nnoitra’s gotta have a fraccion to do all the shit Nnoitra doesn’t want to do, like holding hostages and catching adjuchas to eat when Nnoitra’s lazy and doing the laundry. Laundry. _Ugh_.

It’s also that Tesla’s been with Nnoitra for forever. He knows all his habits, and Nnoitra lets him get away with shit he’s gutted other people for. If he had another fraccion, he’d murder him inside a week.

Tesla. Tesla. His _stupid_ fraccion. Smart enough to be scared and just barely dumb enough to be turned on.

He’s hot for _Nnoitra_. It’s like the punch line to a bad joke.

(Like most crude and tasteless jokes, Nnoitra finds this one hilarious.)

And it’s a terrible combination, because it’s so tempting: Nnoitra wants to give him exactly what he wants, watch his shock and want and pleasure -- and then, when he’s done fucking the stars out of the little idiot’s eyes, he wants to give him what he _expects_ , too, and paint the sands red with pieces of Tesla. That’d be even more fun.

No, he can’t keep thinking of it. If he lingers on the idea for too long it’ll become too tempting...

This is a real fucking delicate situation, here.

In the end, Nnoitra decides to do the right thing by his fraccion, because even if he’s a useless little shit he’s still better than anyone else. So he’s just going to drag Tesla out to the empty sands of Hueco Mundo and beat the shit out of him. He won’t take more than a piece or two.  Then he’ll explain in small words why this is a terrible idea and Tesla needs to get over it, effective immediately.

It’s basically the nicest he’s ever been, and Nnoitra’s genuinely a little unsettled about the decision. Is he getting soft? About _Tesla_?

He scratches his nose, frowning for a second, and thinks about it.

...Nah. Tesla’s just kind of a special case, is all.

Nnoitra’s a simple kind of guy, so as soon as he’s decided, he turns on his heel and gets moving. The smile on his face is enough to make every arrancar he encounters on his way dive for cover. As if Nnoitra would even bother with these nobodies.

Tesla’s talking -- for a certain value of talking -- with Apacci when he finds him, tracking him by the signature of his reiatsu through the pale winding corridors of Las Noches. Nnoitra can feel it when Tesla notices him, sense how he breaks away from Apacci immediately when he feels Nnoitra approach. He doesn’t even seem to remember she’s there by the time Nnoitra turns the corner.

She doesn’t like being ignored, he can see that much from how she bristles and tries to get Tesla’s attention again. But she’s too scared to be obnoxious under Nnoitra’s single narrowed eye. He smiles widely. She shudders obviously, mutters, “Creepy,” and then she’s gone, scampering back to Hallibel before Nnoitra does the world a favour and cuts her face off. Stupid bitch.

“Yo," he says, slinging his weapon over one shoulder, huge and gleaming and sharp. It’s almost impossible to sheathe or to carry without keeping a hand on it at all times, which suits Nnoitra’s personality just fine. “Come with me.”

Tesla asks no questions, which is good, because he’s not getting any answers anyway. He follows Nnoitra as obediently as you please, traipsing out of the city until they hit the sands proper. Far enough out from Las Noches there’s no sun: only the moon and the white sands and the empty sprawl of Hueco Mundo.

Then Nnoitra stops.

From there, everything sort of stops going quite the way he expects.

It starts fine: Nnoitra jams one foot into the back of Tesla's knee and grasps his elbow. Tesla yelps but makes no move to defend himself, and Nnoitra wrenches his arm around easily and, while he's unbalanced, shoves him down to the cool pale sand below.

Nnoitra looms over him, huge and dark beneath the moon. Its light gleams in his eye and on his teeth and smiles brightly around the edge of his crescent blade; the rest of him is all in shadow.

Skinny and tall, he towers over Tesla's prone body. “Stay still and shut up.”

Tesla stills, quiet in the shadows beneath him.

He slings one long, long leg over him and drops to his knees. He‘s tall enough that he can kneel straddling Tesla‘s broader body and never actually touch him, but he can still feel the reiatsu rising from him like a line of heat over his skin.

He plants Santa Teresa in the sand right next to Tesla‘s head, blade first. Tesla doesn’t flinch -- he blinks, swallows, but there’s no really obvious physical movement. And Nnoitra’s not so rude a guy as to tell him he’s not allowed to blink. Well. Not _yet_ , anyway.

He grins down at his fraccion.

Nnoitra can feel the tension in Tesla's muscles, fluttering, uncertain. There’s a shift in his reiatsu, a tense waver that Nnoitra feels on his skin, but nothing of it shows on his face.

Tesla is still and silent.

Nnoitra’s pretty sure Tesla would remain still and silent even if Nnoitra put the blade right through his expressionless face...

He does kind of like Tesla. Nice and obedient. Loyal. A bit stupid sometimes, but over all not a bad kind of guy, if you’ve gotta have somebody following you around trying frantically to make your life easier all the time. Nnoitra’s feeling pretty good about his decision here.

He opens his mouth to tell Tesla in detail how he‘s going to kick the shit out of him for being so colossally presumptuous (and _stupid_ ) as to find Nnoitra attractive, but there’s a split second of indecision and when he opens his mouth what comes out is:

“Yo, Tesla. You wanna fuck?”

There’s a pause, because Nnoitra has actually surprised himself. Didn’t he just decide he wasn’t going to do this?

Tesla’s expression loses all its tension in exchange for surprise for a second. Then something like consternation crosses his face. Yeah. _Yeah_. Of course Tesla’s not stupid enough to feel safe -- but he’s into Nnoitra enough that he’s real turned on about it, too.

Ahhh, fuck it. Nnoitra figures he can’t help it. Obedient minions get him all hot. He smiles, all teeth.

“I... would be pleased to do whatever it is that would make you happiest. Is that what you want, Nnoitra-sama?” Tesla asks cautiously.

“That’s real diplomatic, Tesla,” Nnoitra says, and the word ‘diplomatic’ makes Tesla’s eyelid blink rapidly, pupil shrinking, because he’s really _not_ that stupid.

Nnoitra settles his weight over Tesla’s hips, sitting back on his thighs. Tesla’s warm through their clothes, although maybe the desert air is just cold. Nnoitra gets cold easily, even if the cold doesn’t hurt him. It’s annoying.

Tesla hesitates. “I do,” he says, volunteering the information before Nnoitra gets... impatient. “But I would never--”

“All right,” Nnoitra decides. His new plan is this: he can fuck his fraccion and _not_ kill him. It’s sort of a shitty halfway point between what he should do and what he wants to do, but it’s one they can both live with. ...which is sort of the point.

Nnoitra’s not really used to making compromises. This is hard work.

“...um,” says Tesla, in a tiny, half-terrified, half-hopeful voice.

“You deaf as well as fuckin’ stupid, Tesla? I said ‘All right,’. Take your pants off.”

He’s pretty sure he’s seen Tesla move this fast before, but he couldn’t tell you when.

He does exactly what Nnoitra tells him and nothing more - pants off, then still and silent.

Nnoitra inspects him, rubbing his bottom lip speculatively with his thumb. Tesla's visible eye is wide. He's still wearing all that white, bright under the moonlight. He has well-formed, humanlike legs and genitals -- no weird keepsakes from his adjuchas form, which is good news. It wouldn't have stopped Nnoitra because not much does once he's set upon a course, but it's good that he doesn't have to figure out some brand new kind of junk.

Even soft, Tesla’s cock looks thick and heavy. Nnoitra looks at it, and his brain throws up several ideas in quick filthy succession. Mmm. He can feel himself getting excited like a low tug in his belly, a coiling tension that promises something good.

Tesla isn't shy or blushing, none of that irritating bullshit the shinigami in Las Noches seem to expect about nudity and sex. He stays beneath Nnoitra's shadow, still and quiet, and lets him look his fill.

Nnoitra licks his teeth with his long tongue. His smile widens. This could be fun.

He kicks his own trousers off without much of a thought, and although there's the soft sound of  Tesla swallowing hard when he does he disregards it. He knows what he looks like: skin whiter than anything, hair darker than anything, long, long limbs. Skinny, flexible. Nnoitra folds himself down over Tesla's thighs again. There's a lot more obvious muscle on Tesla than there is on Nnoitra, heavy and warm against his own cold skin.

When they're like this, skin to skin, it's impossible to restrain their reiatsu entirely. Nnoitra doubts Tesla can feel anything past his crushing energy.

He can feel the prickling, excited thrum of Tesla's reiatsu all around him, just like he can feel the heat rising from his skin.

It's obvious Tesla's not going to do anything without being explicitly told to. Nnoitra reaches out to him, running one long finger along the edge of his jaw. It's an easy stretch -- Nnoitra has easily enough reach for two or three people. He can see his own inky shadow move over Tesla's body, thrown only by the cold light of the moon.

His face is warm, too. Nnoitra's fingers slide over the sharp edge of his jaw, down the warm column of his throat. There's a pulse pumping there, thump-thump, fast and hard despite Tesla's outward stillness.

He could reach in with his fingers and pull it out. It'd be easy. He thinks Tesla might let him, so it wouldn't be worth it. It's rarely worth killing someone unless they're trying their hardest to stop you. There's a certain satisfaction in their anguish that you just don't get anywhere else.

He digs his fingers in anyway, just to watch the wince pass over Tesla's face. There's an icy fear peeking out from behind his remaining eye. 

Nnoitra abandons his throat and drags his nails down Tesla's collarbone instead. The shirt he's wearing shreds easily under the pressure he brings to bear, and although Tesla's skin is more resistant, his hierro is nothing compared to the strength in Nnoitra's hands.

The fabric falls away easily.  Tesla's skin splits like ripe fruit in places and rises in angry weals in others. He heals almost as fast as Nnoitra injures him. His breath comes sharper, but he says nothing and doesn't move.

Nnoitra makes a soft, satisfied noise. He licks his lips, grins, and doesn’t bother to keep his voice down: “This is a good look on you, Tesla.” 

Tesla swallows hard and twitches when Nnoitra's hand reaches the dip between his hip bones, the lowest curve of his belly, where the skin gets more sensitive. Nnoitra does think about it, about digging his nails in and slicing through the skin of his penis -- it would be fun to see if Tesla's composure holds through that. But it might also mean he won't be able to get it up, which would be pretty counterproductive.

Nnoitra's got plans for that cock, plans he anticipates more with every passing second, so he has to be careful with it. ...Even if he thinks Tesla's infatuation with him is very, very stupid. It'd serve him right if Nnoitra tore his dick off and kept it as a fucking trophy.

He could still do that. He thinks about it. He thinks about it for a few long, speculative seconds.

...there are very few people in any world who'd willingly let Nnoitra put his hands on their cock. Tesla's self preservation instincts suck. Maybe they just fucked off when he lost his mind?

Nnoitra licks his lips instead and gentles his hand when he drags his fingers through Tesla's pubic hair, down the silky skin of his cock. He's warmer here, almost hot, and the skin is so soft, like warm muscled velvet under Nnoitra's hand.

He curls his fingers around Tesla's penis and it gets hard quickly with his hand on it, swelling and darkening and heating under his touch. He gives a long, careful pull, base to cap, then another. Tesla's breathing gets less steady with each slow tug. He rasps a little, but he doesn't move.

If he planned on having sex out here, Nnoitra would have brought something for lubricant. As it is, he thinks the tacky way blood dries will probably hurt if he tries to use it, and there’s not much else on offer.

He thinks about it for a second, then slides further down Tesla’s body. He gathers saliva on his tongue, then laves it across his cock in long, thorough strokes of his tongue. Yeah, that’ll work.

Tesla makes shocked short noises in the back of his throat, sharp sounds that come out on every exhalation. That’s -- weirdly hot, those noises he makes when it feels good like that. Nnoitra likes the power of it, he decides. He likes the way it sounds like Tesla’s trying to hold back from making any sound but they’re escaping anyway, a beautiful crack in his composure. Of course, it’s still not what he was told to do.

Nnoitra looks up and fixes him with a toothy smile, leaving the dark trail of his hair to drag over the wet-hot-sensitive head of Tesla’s cock. “I thought I told you to shut up?”

“ _Nngh_.” Tesla’s teeth click when he jams his mouth shut, so Nnoitra goes back to getting his dick slicked up. His teeth scrape on the soft, sensitive skin of his penis sometimes, but Nnoitra doesn’t bother to avoid it and Tesla only responds by getting harder.

When it’s slick and it’s about as hard as it’s going to get without exploding, Nnoitra unfolds and his body rises above Tesla’s again. He gets his hand around Tesla’s cock and guides it to press against his sphincter.

The slickness is good, but he’s still pretty sure this is going to hurt. Tesla makes a noise like he’s dying. Nnoitra ignores it and sinks onto his cock.

It’s -- good. The skin is soft and velvety but beneath it there’s a swollen heat, and the crown makes a fast, hard slide right inside him. Nnoitra’s muscles stretch to accommodate it, burning with the suddenness, but it’s less painful than he expected. It’s an intense, satisfying feeling, a sensation that lights up his insides. The hot bloom of pleasure in his guts forces a grunt out.

Nnoitra blinks rapidly, swallows. It's surprisingly good. He didn’t think he was _this_  worked up --

Tesla makes one of those sharp noises and, unbidden, rocks his hips up.

It's unexpected. He's usually so well behaved. When Nnoitra says _shut up and don't move_ it's pretty much inconceivable that Tesla will move so much as an eyelash unless Nnoitra himself is threatened.

But this time he does move, and the instinctive roll of his hips forces his cock in deeper and faster than what Nnoitra’s ready for. Too fast, too much - he’s not sure if the feeling is good or bad, just that it’s _lots_. Every muscle he has clamps up, hard and tense in response to the friction somewhere so sensitive. His reiatsu rises, too, enormous and crushing, pressing down upon Tesla mercilessly and forcing him, panting, deeper into the sand.

“A--ah.” Nnoitra’s voice cracks halfway through the sound even as his eye goes wide. The shuddering clench of his muscles makes everything worse. He’s not loose enough -- obviously, he’s not loose enough. He hasn’t done it this way often before. There’s never much point.

Nnoitra’s muscles must feel like hot steel to Tesla, too strong and too tight. His hips stutter and he makes a choked noise. Whether it's from the painful clamp of muscles around his cock or the sheer spiritual pressure is hard to say, but the expression that crosses Tesla’s face is definitely pain this time.

 _Good_. Serves him right. “Didn’t I tell you to fucking stay still?” Nnoitra asks, narrowing his eye. He shifts and he straightens, bracing against the hypersensitivity of the movement, and he looms over him.

When Tesla gets his eye open again, Nnoitra is smiling, the rest of his face lost in the shadows thrown by moonlight. Nnoitra smiles a lot. Tesla’s never stupid enough to think that smile means anything good.

“...yes,” says Tesla, in a voice hot with strain. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“Shut up," Nnoitra hisses, and wraps his hand around Tesla's neck. His fingers are long enough that they almost meet around his throat. It’d be child’s play to crush it, even one-handed. There’s a pulse beneath his hand, thundering against Tesla’s throat like it’s desperate to get out. Nnoitra can see it in his mind’s eye, the bright splash of hot red blood on the pale sand.

He catches Tesla’s eye with his and smiles, all teeth in the dark. “Just... shut up," he tells him again, low and growling through his smile. He can _feel_ it when Tesla’s cock twitches where it’s buried inside him.

Nnoitra leans his weight forward - mostly on Tesla's windpipe - and rises up on his knees. The long rough pull of Tesla's cock sliding out is incredible. It rubs along all sorts of sensitive nerves as he moves, and then he groans low in his throat and rocks back. It slams up inside him and that's even better. He makes another low breathless noise. His muscles tense and flex all on their own, hot shuddery contractions he feels run up his spine. His fingers clench and he realises he's in danger of ripping out Tesla's throat by accident if he's not careful.

If he kills Tesla he wants it to be on purpose. And also definitely after he's come. Nnoitra loosens his grip, flexing his fingers outward. Tesla, released enough to breathe, chokes down a gasp of air and then his eye rolls right back into his skull when Nnoitra slams back on his cock again. He makes a helpless hot noise, arching against Nnoitra. His fingers clench uselessly in the sand.

Nnoitra rises up and shoves himself down again. The nerves inside him are screaming at every touch and rub and once he starts he can't stop, rocking hard and breathing out noises every time he moves. His skin is hot but it's nothing compared to the wet heat between his legs where Tesla's cock is sliding in and out with his every rocking movement. His own erection is an aching, craving thing between his thighs. He can’t remember the last time he got this hard.

"Nnoitra-sama," says Tesla, shuddering hard beneath him, rocking his hips helplessly.

Nnoitra remembers why he started choking Tesla to start with. Now he claps his spare hand over his mouth instead. "Just _shut up_ ," he tells him.

He pulls up and slams back down again, moaning loudly at the feeling each time. There's a few hot seconds where it's perfect - completely fucking perfect, building up a low throbbing ecstasy in his guts, spreading a rush of heat over his skin.

Then Tesla jerks beneath him in reflexive response to his muscles clenching again. He loses that beautiful build of sensation. He snarls and slaps Tesla across the face, hard enough to snap his head sideways. 

"I told you to stay still! So stay -- ah, shit! -" he cuts himself off with a broken moan as he grinds his hips down again, because like hell he’s going to _stop,_  "-- _shit_ ," he breathes, letting his eyes flutter closed. Exhale. Softer voice: “--stay the fuck still.” It’s good. It’s so good. 

He tips his head back, digging his nails hard into Tesla's face. He can feel the long tail of his hair spilling down his spine, and Nnoitra's so sensitive that even that feels good right now.

He heaves himself up and forward, forcing Tesla's skull further into the white sand, and bares his teeth in a big smile. "Don’t move. If you do, I’m gonna cut your head off, roll you over and fuck you in the ass instead, right?" He tells him breathlessly.

Tesla's response to this seems to be a long, muffled moan and a full-body shiver, but at least he's obviously doing his best to keep still now. The air is rasping in his nose and Nnoitra's palm is wet from where he's gotten drool on it.

"Good," grunts Nnoitra, shifting around until he can find that perfect rhythm again. It's less difficult than he expects - everything is sensitive, everything begging for more of that spine-melting friction. He finds it quickly and gets lost in it, shoving his hips down and scratching long, bloody lines down Tesla's chest, over the fluttering muscles in his belly.

There's blood on his fingers when he finally reaches for his own cock. He's so swollen and sensitive it's almost shocking. Tesla makes a shocked and strangled moan at the sight of his own blood on Nnoitra's cock.

"You - ah - you like that, you stupid kinky shit?" Nnoitra asks. He doesn't bother uncovering Tesla's mouth. There's blood on his face, too, where Nnoitra's fingers have broken the skin around his lips. It's an accident, but it's not like he gives a shit -- and Tesla's not complaining, either.

...not that he _can_ , obviously.

He rocks back, tips his head back -- the change in position does something to him, something wild and electric, and he clenches his hand on his cock and speeds up and hears his own mad breathy gasping. He's not even really talking to Tesla anymore, just mumbling - yes, more, yes, yes _so fucking close, Tesla, yes!_

It hits him in a long throbbing rush buried somewhere between his spine and his belly: hot, rapid-spreading pleasure that makes his nerves sing and his brain go quiet and blank. His muscles turn to steel again, trembling tight, and Nnoitra groans low and closes his eyes. For a second he's coming so hard can see the fucking sun.

He goes lax in the wake of it and blinks slowly. Swallows. Ahh... He feels good. Better than he expected. Hell, he's even in a better mood.

Tesla's still hard - maybe harder, actually, after watching Nnoitra come - and he's staring at Nnoitra with an expression trapped somewhere between blank terror and panting lust.

Nnoitra peels his fingers from Tesla's face. Yeah, he's hurt him there, and obviously Tesla's cut the inside of his mouth on his teeth as well. Well, whatever. He swipes his thumb through the cooling semen on Tesla's belly and rubs it into his lips until he obediently parts them and licks.

Huh. ...nice tongue. Hot. Soft. He didn't think of that. He runs a finger along the inside of his lip, and Tesla catches it with his tongue. He pulls it into his mouth and sucks, hard. If Nnoitra hadn’t come about twenty seconds ago he’d probably be hard just from that.

He pulls his hand away, and Tesla follows Nnoitra’s retreating fingers like a puppet drawn on its strings, tongue out and panting.

"Mmm." It's surprising how hoarse and low Nnoitra's voice is now. He feels practically liquefied, hot and foggy with bliss.

Tesla looks at him like he's bracing for something. Nnoitra can’t help how big his smile gets.

"What's with that look, huh? I'm not such a mean guy I wouldn't let you get off after that, Tesla," he purrs, although the wary look in Tesla's eyes says he thinks Nnoitra is _exactly_ that mean.

And, well... maybe.

But he's in a good mood. He gives an experimental roll of his hips. It doesn't hurt, although he's pretty sensitive still. Tesla doesn't move, because apparently Nnoitra's broken his fucking brain or something. "Come on, idiot. You think I'm gonna give you another chance to fuck me?"

He rocks his hips again, more forcefully this time. Tesla gives a throaty groan and lets his head fall back into the sand. He doesn’t seem to need further encouragement. Nnoitra’s stronger, but he probably weighs about half as much as Tesla soaking wet and holding his weapon. Tesla’s hands come down on Nnoitra’s thighs, big and hot-skinned, and he pulls him down onto his cock as he thrusts up. “Ahh,” he gets out after a few long, hard thrusts, “Nnoitra-sama--”

Nnoitra’s breath hisses between his teeth. He closes his eye and lets Tesla fuck him from below, rocking his hips deep into the movement. He can feel it when Tesla comes: the swell of his cock is oddly notable, and he can feel the strange increased slickness of semen coating his insides. There’s a thick, sloppy noise when he moves next, and Tesla’s cock slides more easily inside him.

His subordinate looks messed up, all slumped and red, with his wet mouth hanging open and his eye unfocused. Nnoitra taps him on the chest and gets a low, broken noise for his effort. Riiiight.

After a second, Nnoitra pulls himself up, off Tesla’s soft cock -- which is a weird feeling -- and unfolds to his feet, stretching out his spine. Tesla just lays there, and Nnoitra looks down at him.

He’s recovering, but how much time does he need to recover? Nnoitra’s already bored. He feels good. He wants to find somebody to fight.

Tesla’s blinking, relaxing. He’s practically melted now, but he looks more lucid.

“I’ve got such a weird fraccion,” he muses, peering down at him.

Tesla gives him an unnecessarily smitten look from beneath his eyelashes, as he always does whenever Nnoitra says something that references his ownership of Tesla. Like Nnoitra says: _weird fraccion._

Then, when he’s settling his heel back into his shoe -- Nnoitra’s clothes are fine, but who even knows how Tesla’s going to explain his to the other arrancar -- he has the horrible thought that he might, somehow, have _encouraged_ Tesla’s particular brand of weirdness. Any way you look at it, this is basically a reward.

Shit. Dammit. He looks down and boots him in the thigh. “Oi, Tesla,” he growls. “This doesn’t mean anything, you got it?”

Expressionless. He grinds his teeth. Kicks again, harder. Tesla gives a pained grunt. “Don’t start thinking we’re on the same level.”

“Nnoitra-sama, I would never.”

Nnoitra gives him a narrow-eyed look, but as far as he can tell Tesla’s pretty sincere. Well. Fine. He still needs his fraccion anyway.

“Get up. I’m bored,” he complains, kicks him in the side one last time, and starts walking.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd write this porn and get it out of my system and _oh, I thought wrong_. 
> 
>  
> 
> **::rips shirt:: ::pterodactyl screech::**
> 
>  
> 
> All right. What do I have to do to drag everybody into Nnoitra/Tesla shipping hell with me?


End file.
